Ch 11

A/N: This is it, the wrap of the story. It's a bit long- so go take a potty break and get something to drink! I'm sorry it's been so long since I updated- I hope you don't have to do too much back-reading to figure this out. Anyway, enough from me. Enjoy the conclusion!

"600,000 dollars in $100 bills," Sara announced finally, pushing back from the dusty backpack she had been fishing money out of for the better part of two hours. Michael, Lincoln and she pushed back from the table where they had been counting.

"Let's go find the rest," Michael said immediately, jumping to his feet and instantly regretting the sudden move, groaning as pain shot through his damaged shoulder. He slumped back down onto the couch.

"Ka-choo," Sara sneezed. She looked terrible again. Her cheeks were bright red and her eyes were watering. The last thing she needed to do right now was go back out on another treasure hunting expedition. Veronica was slumped on the bed where Lincoln had helped her to lie down.

"This is a lot of money. Can't we just take it and go?" Sara asked nasally.

"We owe it to Charles to try and get all the money. I promised him I would send money to his daughter's family. And we may need a lot of money to stay in hiding for what might be... a long time," Michael mused.

"You're in no shape to go anywhere," Sara scolded with concern in her red-rimmed eyes.

"Neither are you," Michael pointed out.

"Which I guess leaves me," Lincoln finished. "I'd feel better if you were here to watch over Veronica, anyway." The injured woman was asleep now.

Lincoln sighed heavily, staring at his brother for a tension-filled moment. Then he abruptly broke eye contact and started tying his shoes on.

"I'll go back and have a look around that silo. I'll try to be back before it gets dark. Michael, can you drive with me as far as the ranch?"

Sara began to protest. She didn't want Michael doing anything for a day or two until he'd had time to heal again. Lincoln cut her short.

"Look, Sara, we know T-Bag had a vehicle back there. I think Michael should ride to the ranch with me and then bring T'Bag's truck back up here. I don't know how long it will take me to search the ranch for the missing money, and you three may need to get out of here in a hurry."

"Why would we need to get out of here in a hurry?"

"We're fugitives, Sara. We need to be prepared to run at all times."

She thought about that silently. Up until this minute, it hadn't occurred to Sara that she was now in the same boat as the others. They were all on the run now. But that couldn't be all there was to it. She had a feeling that Lincoln was worried about something more immediate.

"Who might know about this cabin, Lincoln?"

"T-Bag," Lincoln vocalized his fear.

"So you don't think he's dead, either," Sara guessed.

"I know he looked pretty bad, Sara, but it would take more than a few hard knocks to kill him. When it comes to T-Bag, it's not a good idea to let down your guard."

Sara nodded silently as a chill ran up her spine. "I'll keep watch," she promised.

Michael walked over to her and, with a worried light in his eyes, pulled her to his chest. Their arms wound together and they held one another, both reluctant to let go. Eventually, Michael took a step back, although his hands remained on Sara's arms.

"We'll be back soon," he promised.

"Hurry." Sara was beginning to get spooked at the prospect of spending the next several hours in this dank cabin with an injured woman too out of it to help if the need arose. She shivered and then pointed at the door.

"Go on."

Michael and Lincoln drove back to the ranch with caution. With each mile, their tension inexorably mounted. When they got to the dusty ridge overlooking the main ranch complex, Lincoln stopped the car and pointed to the bloodied dirt just in front of the silo.

"Somehow, I just knew he'd be gone," Lincoln groaned. "I had a feeling- a bad feeling. Okay. Let's go down there with our eyes wide open, little brother."

They spent the next half hour creeping towards the silo, which, if they stopped and thought about it for even a minute, was useless. T-Bag would have heard the car approaching for the last quarter mile out in this silent scrub-filled desert. But they sneaked along regardless, trying to be ready at any moment for the reappearance of the dangerous criminal whom they presumed they had now made even more dangerous by trying to kill him.

The moment when they found T-Bag, or more accurately, when T-Bag found them, was so quick as to be anti-clamactic. Their former prison-mate simply stepped in front of them as they rounded the back of the silo.

"Howdy, boys," he smiled as if he'd found hs two long-lost best friends. The knife he held contradicted his warm tone of voice.

"Easy," Lincoln cautioned, watching the knife and stepping between Michael and T-Bag.

"Oh, I don't plan to hurt either of you," T-Bag promised easily. "I'm just making sure you don't try to hurt me any."

"What do you want?" Michael demanded.

"Let's see. For starters, I think you boys owe me an apology. Yeah, I want an apology. One from each of you. Very sincerely felt and all that." He gingerly touched the bruises and bloody scratches on his head and arms. Lincoln and Michael uneasily sidestepped away from him but he took a step towards them each time they moved.

"What are you playing at, T?" Michael growled as the dangerous dance continued.

"Just this. I think I know where the rest of the money is. I'd let you help me get it, Pretty, but I don't exactly trust you right now. So here's the deal. I'll keep your brother here with me, Pretty boy, and you will go back and get those two lovelies you're traveling with. Then the three of you- you two and that doctor woman- will get the money out while I watch over the lawyer girl. If everyone cooperates, I'll just take what I need and be gone. Everybody will be happy, see?"

"And if we don't-" Michael snorted, pointed at the knife. "You can't take us both. I doubt you could take either one of us alone, for that matter."

T-Bag reached behind him and pulled a handgun out of his belt.

"You're right, Pretty. I don't like to take chances." The gun he held bore no resemblance to the rusty old piece Michael had lent to Sara earlier. Wherever T-Bag had found this firearm, he'd picked out one that appeared to be in perfect working order. T-Bag laughed with glee when he saw them eyeing his gun in amazement.

"This ranch ain't completely abandoned. There's a caretaker's cottage just up beyond that rise over there. Found me some water, some food, and this." He held out the gun for a moment as if he were displaying a prize treasure.

"Where's the caretaker?" Lincoln asked warily.

"Oh, he's there, but he won't be bothering us any."

Michael felt sick in his stomach. T-Bag hadn't said so yet, but he was fairly sure the caretaker was dead. He hadn't killed them yet, Michael guessed, because he couldn't get the rest of the money without their help. It must be hard to reach. Otherwise, Michael speculated, the ruthless con would have just taken the money and left.

"Sit," T-Bag commanded next, waving the gun at Lincoln and then in the direction of the barn. "Go get those girls, Pretty. And hurry. I have an itchy trigger finger when I'm bored."

Sara was relieved to hear the sound of the car returning so soon after the men had left. With a glance at Veronica, awake but still resting, she ran outside to greet Michael. He climbed out of the car and slammed the door with a thunderous noise. Sara knew instantly something had gone wrong.

"Get Veronica," Michael called to her. "We're all going to the ranch."

He filled her in as they drove, but only because she plied him with anxious questions the whole way. This time he drove straight onto the property and parked next to the barn. T-Bag came out to greet him.

"Where's Lincoln? If you've hurt him, I swear- "

"Relax, there, Scofield. Your brother is fine. Let's get right to work, shall we?" They followed T-Bag into the barn, where he allowed Veronica to slump against the barn wall in the shade. The others went with him back out to the silo. T-Bag pointed to a well next to the structure. He pulled a leather pouch out of his pocket and threw it at Michael.

"See what you make of that," he commanded.

Michael untied the pouch and removed the contents, a rock with a piece of paper tied around it. Unrolling the paper, he found markings on the paper that corresponded to the buildings on the ranch. A few stylized representations of trees and hills were also drawn in appropriate places, matching the sparse trees he saw here and there on the property. Michael looked up.

"A map."

"Impressive!" T-Bag scoffed. See that X in the middle? That's the silo, and we have already found that bag of money."

"There's three other X's on this map. So I guess that's where the rest of the money is?"

"Yeah, but look where those X's are." T-Bag didn't wait for him to look for more than a few seconds before he began to point around him.

"One is where that tree is. And one is on the road, where the gate is."

"And the last one is on this well." Michael walked to the well and looked down into the murky hole, took the rock that the map had been wrapped in and dropped it down the center. He counted three seconds.

"The water level's almost 200 feet down," Michael reported almost instantly. "So if there's a satchel full of money down there somewhere, it's going to be hard to get out. I don't think this well is wide enough for a person, unless it was a small person."

T-Bag shoved at Sara. "The doctor lady."

"No," Michael cried.

"She's not going down there," Lincoln chimed in. The brothers both looked at T-Bag with murderous frowns.

"Well I say she is," T-Bag seethed, threatening them with his gun again.

"You don't even know if that money is down there. Let's get the other bags first," Michael pleaded.

"You'll be getting the other bags while the doc is getting this one out of the well," T-Bag explained impatiently. "If you try anything cute, I'll cut the rope."

"Oh," Sara burst out, impatient with the pissing contest. "Let's just get it over with. And no rope cutting, or no money."

She shot T-Bag a look of disgust and walked over to the well, pulling at the iron bar above the hole. T-Bag, who'd had some time to plan this operation before they had arrived, proudly dragged a coil of nylon rope from the back of his pickup. He had already begun tying it to the frame of the well when Michael came up to him.

"May I?" He asked, pointing at the rope.

"Okay, Pretty." T-Bag stepped aside, allowing him access to the rope and to Sara. Michael proceeded to tie the rope so that Sara could rappel down into the forbidding tunnel. He fixed the end around her waist and legs so that she was securely attached to the lifeline. Without waiting for anyone's go-ahead, Sara swung her leg up and over the edge of the well.

"Wait," Michael stopped her.

"T-Bag," he called. "Let me work with Sara. I promise I'll do exactly as you say. You and Lincoln can work on the other two locations."

T-Bag appeared to mull over this idea for a few moments before answering.

"Alright, Scofield. I guess I've got your brother's life in my hands this way. Either way, you mess with me, you lose someone important. So don't try anything tricky."

With that, Lincoln and T-Bag walked off to the gate. Michael turned to Sara, still sitting on the edge of the brick well, one leg hanging in and one hanging out.

"I'll keep you from falling," he told her worriedly.

"I know you will. Don't worry, Michael. We'll figure a way out of this."

She smiled at him as if she was actually enjoying the adventure. Sara leaned in towards him until their foreheads were almost touching and gently brushed her fingers along the edge of his cheek. He closed his eyes and pleasure flew across his features before they were once again overtaken by worry and pain. He felt her warm head leaning against his and realized she still had a fever. Renewed worry filled him.

"Now, I'm going to get that money." Before he could react, Sara had lowered herself into the dark well. Michael quickly pulled up the slack and, foot by foot, helped her lower herself ever deeper. After several minutes, he thought he heard her say something. Leaning over the edge, he called to her.

"What did you say?"

"I didn't- I just sneezed. It's really dark down here. I think I can see the water now."

Her voice echoed its way up the shaft, distorting the words. Michael had to concentrate to understand her. He tried to imagine how Westmoreland might have hidden money in the well without climbing down. He couldn't picture the old man being agile enough to do that.

"Sara, is there anything floating on the surface of the water?"

"There is something," he heard her voice echo back, muffled and distant. "I'm trying to reach it. The rope isn't quite long enough. Wait... okay, I hooked it with my foot. Pull me up, Michael!"

He immediately began the process of pulling her up, higher and higher. He forced himself to go slowly so as not to bump her against the sides or to somehow snag the rope, but it was hard to resist the impulse to just yank the rope up as fast as he could. It took a long time, but finally Sara's hands appeared first. She grabbed onto the well's sides and pulled herself out with Michael's help. She was damp and muddy, and thoroughly exhausted. A bright orange plastic container was clutched in her hands. She gave it to Michael.

"Open it," she urged him breathlessly.

He turned the box over and over, looking for a way to open it. More than anything, it resembled a first aid box. It had been meticulously sealed with plastic caulking. He broke the still-intact seal and lifted the lid, revealing a plastic bag, also sealed tight. It held more money. $100 bills again. He and Sara allowed themselves to share a triumphant smile.

Sara turned and looked towards the road that led out to the gate.

"Here come Lincoln and T-Bag," she observed. Michael watched the two draw near. They were also covered in mud and looked red-faced and tired. T-Bag held a satchel very similar to the one he had found in the silo.

"Whatcha got there?" He questioned Sara and Michael. "Throw it over here."

Michael grimaced and tossed the plastic bag towards T-Bag. It hit the ground about halfway between them.

"Bring it to me," T-Bag demanded, looking at it where it lay with nervous eyes.

Michael looked at T-Bag, then at Lincoln, measuring the distance in his head. He walked towards the bag with measured steps, making T-Bag even more nervous. The anxious con waved his gun at Michael's head.

"Give it to me!" He screamed. His eyes were completely focused on the bag in front of him and nothing else.

Lincoln didn't miss the opportunity to take T-Bag by surprise. He leapt off the ground and hurtled through the air, surprising not only T-Bag with his sudden action but Michael and Sara as well. T-Bag's gun went off into the air, causing Michael and Sara to hit the ground in fear for their lives. Lincoln latched onto T-Bag by the neck. When Michael realized this was their chance, he threw himself into the fray. For a minute or two, Sara couldn't tell who was winning or losing.

It was over quickly. T-Bag was no match for the combined strength of the two brothers. Lincoln held him in a chokehold while Michael relived him of his gun, handing it to Sara.

"Okay, here's the deal," Lincoln panted. "I don't want to kill you, T-Bag. And I don't think you ever wanted to kill us. We're leaving now. We're taking the money we've already found with us. You can have whatever you find under that tree. I'm going to tie you to the tree. When you get loose, and I have confidence that you will, you can keep whatever you find. We're not coming back. We have enough, more than enough, for us and for Westmoreland's daughter."

Michael tied T-Bag to the tree almost before Lincoln was finished. He left the ropes a bit loose. He didn't understand it, but he agreed with Lincoln. He didn't want to kill him. T-Bag could have whatever was left. Lincoln had disappeared into the barn in the meantime, and he now re-emerged with Veronica at his side. For the first time in a long time, she looked relatively alert. Her face was a huge bruise, though, and she glared at T-Bag with a hateful vengeance.

"Get in the car," Lincoln told her. Sara came to her aid and helped her up to where the car was parked. They both got in.

"I guess this is goodbye," T-Bag pointed out wistfully, almost as if he felt an attachment to them. Michael snorted. He had never understood this crazy man, and now was no exception.

"Here's hoping we never cross paths again," Michael responded with quiet fury. He and Lincoln turned towards their car.

"You never know," T-Bag called after them. An eery feeling followed the foursome as they drove away.

Within a few minutes, they had gathered up whatever they could grab back at the cabin and driven away. Their final destination was still up for debate. Lincoln and Michael wanted to go to Mexico, maybe catch up with Sucre. Sara was afraid to cross the international border in either direction; she knew of an island off the coast of Washington State where they could hopefully manage to disappear from sight. The debate continued throughout the afternoon, but as the light began to fade, there was no question on anyone's mind as to how they would spend the night.

The stars glowed like flourescent lights above their heads where they lay on the ground, cozily encased in their sleeping bags, full of Wal-Mart snacks and fruit they had picked up at a small general store. The camp fire had died down to embers by the time they finally drifted off to sleep. At least, Lincoln and Veronica were asleep. Michael and Sara gravitated together like magnets once they realized they were the only ones awake.

"I was afraid I might lose you today," Michael confessed in a whisper. "When T-Bag sent you down that well, I was so scared. I thought about that story I told you the other night under the stars."

"You mean, you didn't look back, like Orpheus did?" Sara asked,remembering the story. "How? Explain."

"I think what Orpheus let go of was faith. He looked back to see where his wife was because he didn't have faith that she was still there. And his lack of faith, of trust, destroyed her. So I chose to believe that everything would work out somehow. I chose to keep moving forward, to take things one step at a time, without knowing what would happen."

"You don't trust easily," Sara mused.

"No. But I'm learning." He hugged her tightly and for a little while, there were no more words between them, just soft touches and gentle kisses.

"I can't wait to see what happens next," Sara mumbled groggily, sinking into the crook of his arm. She had drunk a double dose of Nyquil earlier and was feeling very warm and fuzzy.

"Well, next we hide from the authorities, then we run from the police, and after that we do our best to never be found by the conspiracy."

"Sounds exciting. You left out the part where we relentlessly gather evidence and expose the people responsible for all this."

"That's Lincoln and Veronica's job. You and me, we just get to lie under the stars, eat food from Wal-Mart and hide out in lonely cabins. You sure you're okay with all this?" His tone turned serious as he asked the question.

"I'm okay. I'm really okay with it all. As long as I get to be with you, I'm good."

"Great. You know what?" Michael asked her, sounding as enthusiastic as a child.

"What?"

"I can't wait to see what happens next, too." She laughed and closed her eyes. Life was great.

The end

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